Pizza Wars
by FloraIrmaTylee
Summary: Draco's stupid if he thinks he can bake a better pizza than Hermione. Especially since he doesn't know what a pizza is... (Dramione oneshot)


**I keep writing dramione for these prompts- someone stop meee. Plus I was gonna manip a fancy little cover art but then I thought- "fuck it let's google pizza" which was a terrible idea because now I'm hungry and I haven't eaten while I'm typing this. Okay, so it's Post Hogwarts, random little fluff if Draco and Hermione ended up together. **

_**Imagine your OTP making homemade pizzas. Bonus if eventually they end up flinging the sauce and toppings at each other. **_

**I have a headcanon that Draco's never tried pizza okay and Hermione loves it let's just pretend for the sake of an au because dramione**

**what even is writing**

**im procrastinating on writing chapters with this shit**

* * *

The kitchen of their flat smells like burnt _something_ and strong spices.

Needless to say, Draco's concerned.

Hermione stands at the counter with her hands stuck in a bowl and white powder brushed into her frizzy curls, every so often his girlfriend blowing upwards to get stray strands out of her eyelids.

"What?" Draco croaks out, finally.

"Oh!" Hermione's startled as she shoves the bowl away from herself and wipes her hands on a dish towel, wincing, brown eyes flickering about nervously. "You're back early."

"Yes, I'm back early," Draco grunts, but waves his hands in a nonsensical manner to everything she has littered around the kitchen. "What is this? I just cleaned here, Granger, honestly."

"Scourgifying the kitchen does _not_ count as cleaning it," Hermione says stubbornly, but uses her wrists to push her hair out of her face. "I'm cooking, Draco."

"Cooking what?" Draco leans against the doorframe.

"Pizza," Hermione mumbles under her breath.

"What the hell is that, Granger?"

"You wouldn't understand," Hermione says, not answering, instead turning her back to toss tomatoes in the strange chopping/smoothie device she uses.

"What is it?" Draco reiterates his point.

"Food," Hermione says flippantly, shaking her head and letting her curls rest on her shoulders more comfortably.

"It doesn't look like food to me," Draco remarks.

"Draco, it's food. Good food," Hermione turns on the device and noisy sounds fill the air, making it hard to hear.

"I don't see it," Draco mutters.

"You could help," Hermione says.

"No."

"Why not?" She stirs the contents of the device with a wooden spoon and tastes it.

"I might if you'd tell me what it is."

"It's pizza," Hermione states slowly, like he's a little kid and can't grasp difficult words.

"Damnit, Granger, I _know_ it's piz-whatever. For the smartest witch of our age, you sure can't explain culinary aspects of _food_."

"Don't get difficult," Hermione scowls. "Pizza is an Italian dish made of a dough crust, tomato sauce, topped with cheese. Haven't you ever tried it?"

"No," Draco wrinkles his nose, "It sounds disgusting."

"That's because you've never had it," Hermione says, "Now sod off. I'm _cooking_."

Draco watches her for a while after that. She lays a wooden board flat on the countertop and rolls a thick, gloppy-looking pasty dough on top of a messy spread of flour and starts kneading it. As in, with her bare hands. Obviously, Draco's repulsed at the sight.

"No wonder it tastes horrid," Draco snidely remarks, "Your dirty hands are all-"

"My hands are not _dirty_, Malfoy," Hermione pointed a long, flattening thing she called a rolling pin at his face.

"Oh, so I'm Malfoy now."

"You always were Malfoy!"

Draco smirks at his frazzled girlfriend and strides over to her- muggle device- and peers inside. "Why are the tomatoes smushed?"

"It's sauce, Draco, tomato sauce! You've _had_ tomato sauce!" Hermione is clearly upset at that point and she's rapidly mashing the dough between her palms and balled fists.

Draco knows he's crossed a line. Such a line.

That doesn't mean he'll stop.

"It smells dreadful."

Hermione slams the rolling pin on the counter and her jaw clenches, and Draco's sure she'll try and send a hex his way or at least yell, so he backs up against the countertop and decides to challenge her instead.

"I could cook it better," he informs her with a big grin.

Hermione's eyes only narrow. "Oh really? _You_, Mr. I-Have-Magic-To-Fix-Everything can cook the muggle way?"

"Yes," Draco says, knowing a contest when he sees one. "Let's make it a little interesting, shouldn't we, Granger? When I win-"

"Hold on," Hermione's eyes flashed fire, "Who's to say _you're_ going to win? You don't even know what a pizza _looks_ like."

"I do so," Draco spouts childishly, crossing his arms.

"Then prove it. Make a better pizza than mine," Hermione challenges.

"You're _on_, Granger."

They both rush to the ingredients all at once, and Draco has to admit to himself, he has no idea what a pizza looks like. Occasionally, he sneaks glances at Hermione's dish until she catches notice and blocks his path, so he's left to the brief description the witch gave him.

Dough crust, so it seems. He rolls it out like he saw Hermione doing, but it's difficult, and he's not sure if it's supposed to have a shape- he leaves it all mismatched and uneven and reaches for tomato sauce.

He pours it over, surveying how it looks, which isn't terrible- how muggles ate the stuff, he'd never figure out. He snatches up cheese and sprinkles shredded mozzarella over it all, though quantity- he isn't sure. He puts a lot just in case.

Hermione moves to a pile of various cut up foods and starts putting those on her pizza, so Draco does the same, tossing random mixtures of condiments on there as well.

His hip hits hers and Hermione steps backward-flying right into her own pizza, the back of her blue shirt staining red with sauce.

Draco doesn't notice and he gathers bell peppers in his hands.

"You-you-utter _child_!" Hermione sputters, wiping her hands. "How dare you!"

"What?" Draco is confused, actually confused, but Hermione sees it as playing dumb.

"So that's how it'll be, is it?" Hermione's fuming at her boyfriend at this point.

"What?" Draco repeats, raising his eyebrows. "Granger, I don't-"

She hits him.

In the chest.

With a handful of tomato sauce.

Then she's actually nodding, jaw clenched, arms crossed and eyebrows knit together. _Take that, Malfoy._

Draco's mouth sets into a line, fingers dabbing at the tomato that covers his white button up, watching the expensive cloth stain and he looks up at Hermione with a smirk. A nonverbal '_oh, it's on_' hangs in the air and Draco reaches for a handful of cheese.

All hell breaks loose.

Hermione tosses her ruined pizza in Draco's face and his silvery hair smears in red and cheese dusts his shoulders; Draco throws the mozzarella into her curls and they tangle with the brown strands.

"Prat!" Hermione runs a finger through her hair, coming up with shredded pieces of cheese, and tosses sausage bits at Draco.

Draco retaliates with tossing sliced salami slices at her, almost slipping in sauce, laughing at the face Hermione makes as she shields her face with both hands.

"You are _not_ winning this, Malfoy!"

Hermione grabs leftover dough and throws the entire slab of it at Draco and it hits his shoulder comically.

Draco grabs the (blender, was it called?) and tosses the remainder of the sauce over Hermione's head, and she shrieks loudly at the cold feeling of it, swatting at Draco's chest with her hands.

They're both panting when they pause, chest heaving.

"Just-so-we're-clear-" Hermione gulps lungfuls of air, "You're-cleaning-this-up."

"N-never," Draco breathes heavily, but then he smirks. "It's obvious-who won this round."

"You wish," Hermione snaps, touching her coated hair and moaning at the condition. "My _hair_."

"It's an improvement," Draco says teasingly, "Now it's plastered to your head instead of looking like a bird family nests in it."

Hermione swats at him again, but more playfully, and she kisses his lips, just once, letting her hands tiptoe up his shoulders and tasting the tomato sauce that's gotten into his mouth.

Draco returns the kiss briefly, but pulls away, leveling Hermione with his glare. "Admit it. I won."

"Won _what_?" Hermione asks, incredulous. "You never made a good pizza, _I_..."

"..._your_ pizza is on the floor and ruined," Draco says, clearly satisfied at this. "I win."

Hermione studies the fate of her pizza and groans, bending to pick the remains up. "I spent so much time on it."

"I won," Draco repeats smugly, "I expect a prize."

"_You_ can expect to clean up my kitchen," Hermione jabs a finger in his chest. "While _I_ shower."

"Can I join you?"

Hermione smacks his shoulder.

"Ow, Granger, that hurt."


End file.
